The Soul of a SEAL Page 11

  Sighing internally, Bennett wished that this particular scientist wasn’t going to keep him talking all night. All he wanted to do right now was get some shut-eye, the kind that had noises in the background. With Melo’s snoring, that was not going to be a problem.

  * * *

  At 0400 Melo shook him awake. “C’mon, Boss. Prince Charming, it’s time to wakey wakey. We need to get a few miles under our belt and do some CrossFit training before we tour the quarters.”

  Bennett groaned. He pulled the pillow from beneath his head, aimed it in Melo’s direction, and threw it with precision. He’d slept less than he wanted to, and though he could handle it, he knew he’d perform better if he could get at least four hours without Melo’s snaffling snores.

  “Oof! Low blow, Sheraton.” Melo leaned over, attempting to catch his breath. Thanks to Bennett’s good aim, he was going to run with a limp this morning.

  Bennett stretched. Swinging his legs over the side of the couch, he rubbed his hands over his face and stood. He grabbed his shorts, T-shirt, and running shoes and was dressed and ready to go by the time Melo recovered.

  “I didn’t hit you that hard.” The frown on his buddy’s face was genuine. Bennett felt a pang of concern. “You okay?”

  “Sure. I blew the antigravity test. Guess there’s a problem with my middle ear as well as a burst eardrum.” Melo scrubbed his hands over his face and then stared at Bennett. “Congratulations, man. You’re the one that’s going to be orbiting the Earth.” He thrust his hand out.

  “Sorry, my man. I feel for you. I know it was your dream as much as mine. I’ll do us both proud.” Bennett shook his swim buddy’s hand. “Okay?”

  “Yeah. Thanks.” Melo gestured to his cell phone. “Probably for the best, I’m not launching into space. I’d hate to make that call to Alisha and get an earful on how I need to keep my feet on the ground. Wives, right?”

  “I don’t know, Melo. I never could make it work. My marriage was doomed and over in less than six months. She emptied my bank account and ripped my heart out. You’ve loved your wife for like, what, a half of a decade before you even married her. That’s pretty special. Any man would envy a love and connection like that,” Bennett admitted. Would he ever be that blessed? He doubted it.

  “I suppose so. I wouldn’t trade it for a ride to space. So that’s a good thing.” Melo gave a half smile.

  Bennett considered lightening the mood by ribbing the man about hurling in the Vomit Comet, because it had received its slang name for a reason. But he couldn’t bring himself to kick a Teammate when he was down. Truth was…he’d be seriously bummed too, if the circumstances were reversed. “Anything else going on?”

  “Nah. On the personal front, just missing Alisha. I got a text from her yesterday.” They headed down the hallway, through the white room, and out the main door. Nodding at the guards, they took off on a fast-paced run.

  Melo continued his train of thought. “She said it was u-r-g-e-n-t. Any chance I could meet her in town or bring her here?”

  “I don’t know, Jonah. We haven’t determined the problems. I don’t want either one of you to get blindsided. Putting her in danger, well, you’d never forgive yourself if something went sideways. And honestly, I wouldn’t forgive you either,” Bennett ribbed with an edge of seriousness. No SEAL wanted to put his loved one at risk. This was the very reason they left home to handle missions instead of staying put.

  “Agreed. I’ll call her when we return and figure out what she needs.”

  “Besides a booty call?” teased Bennett.

  “Hell, we all need that,” said Melo, laughing.

  A sudden sound from behind them had Bennett signaling to Melo with a hand gesture and then peeling off and circling around. When he spied Kimberly Warren coming up behind Melo, he snuck up from behind and tapped her shoulder.

  She squealed. “Don’t do that! You scared me.”

  “Situational awareness, lady. I’m just saying.” Bennett fell back in sync with Melo as Kimberly joined them.

  “I, uh, couldn’t help but overhear your predicament. Maybe I could help,” she offered. Her breathing was paced, and it was obvious this lady was a runner.

  “How?” asked Melo, looking at her from the corner of his eye.

  “I have to visit a vendor in El Centro. She could meet us at a restaurant. I could stay in the car, or we could get separate tables. There’s been something off in the quality of a product, and I don’t trust anyone else to handle it.” Her hands bunched into fists.

  Bennett noticed the tension filling Kimberly. A wave of protectiveness slid through him. “I’ll join you both. We can make it a foursome.”

  Melo laughed. “Whatever makes you happy, brother.”

  The look he gave Bennett twisted his gut. Melo knew that he and Kimberly were hooking up and was not particularly thrilled about it. Hooking up on a mission was a standard negative. Yet staying away from Kimberly was like giving up an appreciation for breathing and for the joys of life. Like leaving your Ka-Bar, superior technology, or cold beer at home. For a SEAL that was crazy talk and definitely not possible to do.

  * * *

  In fresh clothing and with the whiskers scraped off their cheeks and chins, Melo and Sheraton made their way to the former quarters of their fallen brothers. Scanning their IDs at precisely 0700, they entered the room together.

  Bennett’s mouth dropped open. The place had been hit. Cushions, pillows, and even the mattresses had been slashed. Stuffing spilled out on the floor, and there were broken computer parts littered all around the room. “Not what I would call ‘preserving the scene,’” Bennett said.

  “Nope,” said Melo. His usual upbeat demeanor was sullen as he moved methodically around the room, checking places he might stash information. “I’m not finding anything. Are you?”

  Having moved into the middle of the room, Bennett’s eyes scanned the whole place. “Something’s missing. What’s missing, Jonah?”

  “Besides their cell phones and weapons?”

  Bennett nodded. “They both preferred the tiny stickers, not the big Ka-Bars our Frogmen fathers used. If those items aren’t here and weren’t on the bodies, then…”

  “The killer has them,” finished Melo.

  “Let’s write a program to scan for weapons and to turn those phones on. Those are good trophies too.”

  “I’m on it, but it will take me some time. I do a lot of it in my head.” Melo tapped his temple with his finger. “By tonight, I’ll have something for you.”

  “Good. We have a date to keep. Don’t want to keep Dr. Warren waiting.” Bennett stepped out of the room and closed the door behind his Teammate. He hated thinking about the position they were in. Being in the dark about who the enemy was could be very dangerous.

  * * *

  They were finally out of the facility at 0950. A rash of calls from Hubbard and Kess had kept all three of them running around.

  “What did Hubbard have you doing?” asked Bennett.

  Kimberly sighed heavily. “Paperwork. As if it really matters. We are either getting the shuttle off the ground or not. Filling out forms isn’t going to make a hill-of-beans difference.”

  “Kess asked Bennett and me to plot and then replot several alternative orbits around the Earth. He said it was a normal part of the protocol,” Melo said, leading Kimberly to answer his question without directly asking her.

  “It is, but it shouldn’t have taken more than twenty minutes, tops. I wonder what he was really getting at. You never know with him.” Her face settled into a frown for a few seconds and then bounced back as they reached her car.

  “Meet my baby. I call her Bella. ’Cause she’s beautiful.”

  Nothing was better than a road trip. The car seats had thick plush cushions. The seats were each a little different: the two fronts were blue and the one backseat t
hat faced backward from the passenger side was green. If Bennett had to define Kimberly’s vehicle, it would be as a cross between a hatchback and a VW, yet oval-shaped on the exterior like an egg.

  “Thanks for letting me drive,” she said, her voice filled with delight again. “I don’t take Bella on the road very often. This is a nice treat.” The vehicle was housed in a small covered garage to the left of the Lester Facility’s parking lot. Kimberly started the engine, and as they drove down the long road, Bennett had time to appreciate the landscape of the property and the mountains just to the right of them.

  “Is she a ‘kit’ car?” asked Melo, whose face was slightly pale. He was strapped into the backseat.

  Man, he hoped Melo didn’t lose his breakfast in the car. From what Bennett had heard, the Chamber Debacle was going to be fodder enough for ribbings over the next several decades. Bennett pulled a pack of gum from his pocket and slipped Melo a piece of spearmint from the front seat.

  Melo tapped Bennett’s hand, thanking him for the offering. The foil wrapper crinkled as he took it out. Shortly after he started chewing, the car filled with the sweet scent.

  “No, there weren’t any instructions per se,” laughed Kimberly. “My mother designed Bella when I was five years old. Well, we sort of did it together. As I built the first incarnation of the space shuttle, I had a ton of spare parts, so I altered the engine design and the interior and made her fully functional all by myself.”

  Bennett pushed on his passenger-side front seat cushion with his fingers. “The material is recycled plastic. Right?” The color was bright blue with silver sparkles. Melo’s wife, Alisha, would have loved the car. It looked as if Barbie had based her Dreamhouse on its color spectrum.

  “Yeah,” she said as she snuck a glance in his direction.

  He smiled at her.

  “I had this soft stuff that didn’t work on the interior of the shuttle because it got hard in highly extreme temps. Not wanting to discard it, I molded it into these cushions. Quite frankly, having this car to work on—and the CarP, too—saved my sanity. There were a lot of problems with the first few versions of the shuttle.”

  “Mainly what?” Bennett was curious about the history of the vehicle that was going to take him to space and sort of in awe of this lady who simply made whatever she wanted and had such faith in her creations that she incorporated them into daily use. What better endorsement was there?

  “First, there was the integrity of the hull—finding the correct mix of metals and fiberglass to withstand the pressures of launch, orbit, and return. I’m not fond of the clay tiles; they break too easily. So I made a new concoction for the exterior that could withstand a multitude of abuses. The second problem was securing the interior frame to the exterior shell. When we did the crash tests in Virginia—Bennett, you saw the footage—we kept killing the dummies. So I had to create a layer of material to insert between the interior and exterior shell. This was a sticky type of foam that has old-school fiberglass in the compound that could adhere to both pieces. It was the perfect answer, until we realized the door wouldn’t open properly or even stay on until we figured out how to reinforce it, foam it, and then insert the interior and exterior locking systems.”

  She took a breath. Her car sailed over a bump, landing on the other side without even touching the ground.

  His face turned toward her. “Magnets.”

  “How did you know?”

  “It’s the only thing that makes sense. Where did you source the materials?” He knew China was the leading exporter of rare earth metals. Did she know of a hidden stash? SECNAV would have loved to lay hands on those materials in large quantities.

  “A ranch between Wyoming and Montana has a cache. The owners are space nuts, and they read a paper I did in college. Since they were my professors at the time, they were sort of obligated when they learned what I was doing with the shuttle. They helped me find a solution and provided the rare earth metals. You’re the first person whom I’ve told. I don’t want anyone else knocking on the door. They have over five hundred acres of mineral-rich land, and their first test spot yielded about three tons of materials.”

  Melo whistled. “That’s hefty. They could make a pretty penny on that.”

  She shrugged. “They don’t need the money. Their pursuits are more…intellectual in nature. When my mother passed, they helped me, raised me as their own child. I’m protective of them as much as they are of me.”

  “Did they invest in the shuttle?” Bennett wasn’t sure if Kimberly was going to answer the question. Personally, it was none of his business. In terms of his investigation, it was imperative that he understand.

  “At first.” She pushed her hair out of her face. “They encouraged me to find investors. It was the worst advice… I mean, I understand it from their end; wealth is not infinite, but it wasn’t the best path for me, though overall, one could argue that it’s made the project move faster. The Warren Shuttle project progressed further, more efficiently and effectively, than any other on the planet, and that’s why we have this opportunity to launch the laser array into space.”

  Melo whispered. “A possible heiress. Good call, Boss.”

  Bennett poked him with his finger. The man was oblivious to what was really happening here. He needed to brief him and get him on the same page. “This vendor we’re seeing, the one in El Centro, what items are they responsible for producing?”

  “BIST, that’s their name.” Her lips thinned. “The locking mechanism and a few smaller parts. At first, they were using high-grade materials; now, the handle practically falls off in my hand. I don’t know what’s going on with them. The specs I gave them for the locking mold are extremely specific, as are the items they are supposed to be smelting. We have enough of the smaller items, but the locking mechanism… I don’t like the look of the one currently installed.”

  “Understood,” said Bennett. His mind ran through a multitude of possibilities, from espionage to an incompetent quality inspector.

  A voice piped up from the backseat. “I’m surprised you don’t have a smelter at the Lester Facility,” Melo quipped. “You have everything else there.”

  “I wanted to—to put one in, but Hubbard blew his top when he learned what kind of cooling and heating systems we’d need to put in place, so BIST handles custom molding for us. I’ve been calling them for weeks without a response. I don’t know what’s going on over there.” Her hands gripped the wheel tightly.

  He could see her knuckles were turning white. Her muscles tightened as she clenched and unclenched her teeth. “Hey, we’re here with you,” Bennett said. “We’ll figure it out.”

  “Time is ticking away. It’s an indulgence to go to the vendor’s manufacturing plant, but I don’t know if we can afford to launch without this part. If we do, we’re sticking a pilot inside and welding the door shut. That can’t be safe.” Her skin was mottled with red. As her hand slammed on the steering wheel, the car lifted for a count of five beats.

  “Does this thing hover?” Bennett needed to calm her down, change the subject back to something she could converse about easier. Going into an unknown situation with heated emotions was asking for trouble.

  “I’m working on it. Why should Willie Wonka have all the fun?”

  Laughter came from the backseat as Melo cracked up. “I’d love to see this thing expelling bubbles. Frankly, that would make my day.”

  “I’ll work on it,” she said. The tension slowly eased out of her body as she considered the prospect.

  Bennett’s hand reached out and covered her free one. He squeezed it before allowing her attention to go back to the road. Maybe part of his job was making sure Kimberly Warren got what she needed to make this launch happen. Seemed to him that she was the only one concerned with every aspect of the hardware for the space shuttle. The rest of the groups at the Lester Facility were just going through the motion
s. He hoped he was wrong about that, but his gut feelings were usually right. There was something going on, and several folks who wanted Kimberly to fail—who didn’t want this craft to get off the ground at all. Yes, one of his priorities was protecting her, and in turn, protecting the mission.

  * * *

  BIST Manufacturing was housed on a concrete slab on the outskirts of El Centro. The air was dry and arid, redolent of cacti and dried sagebrush. The setting was more conducive to a shoot-out at the OK Corral than it was to a manufacturer of molded and drop-forged hardware.

  Only a few cars were in the giant parking lot, and there was no sign of activity, even though it was a weekday. That in itself set off a number of alarm bells for Bennett. He slid a glance at his Teammate, and they both scanned for hostiles. Other than a few chicken hawks circling the area, there wasn’t much evidence of life.

  Bennett walked slightly in front of Kimberly, ready to push her out of way if there was danger. He and Melo packed two SIG Sauer 9 mms each, knives, and extra ammo. They left nothing to chance.

  Each step set his nerves on edge. He was prepped for a fight, and that might have not presented the best appearance as they stood at the front door, waiting for the overweight guard. Bennett knew his eyes were daring someone to push his buttons.

  “What do you want?” the guard shouted through the glass door.

  “I need to see Arnold Bist. Tell him Kimberly Warren is here.” Kimberly was the epitome of calm. Either she hadn’t noticed the tension building around her or she was ignoring it. Either way, she played her role perfectly: that of a businesswoman here to discuss business.